


while it lasts.

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Hotel Artemis (2018)
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, Father-Son Relationship, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Power Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 17:49:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16142366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: Dad is late. Crosby shows his irritation more than he should.





	while it lasts.

It’s raining outside, and Crosby shifts the umbrella on his shoulder, glancing in the direction of the horizon. The darkening sky is swiftly turning from a deep, sultry purple to a darker black, and one or two stars are beginning to show, filtering into sight. The marina is deserted, and Crosby stands alone in his black suit and his camel coat, huddling a little under the scarf as he sees his father’s boat come to moor itself against the dock. 

There’s no sign of Orian Franklin on deck - there won’t be, Crosby is aware, until the ropework is done, until he can step smoothly out from underneath the canopy and straight onto the dock, where he can join Crosby underneath the umbrella.

Dad doesn’t mind getting wet, most of the time, enjoys doing his own knotwork and maintenance on the boat, somehow managing to keep his hands soft and delicate even though Crosby always burns his on the thick rope, but–

Not tonight.

“Ho there, Cros,” says one of the attendants: he’s blond, broad and muscular, and when he smiles at Crosby, Crosby feels his heart skip a beat. He’s not handsome, this one - the guys call him Jericho, but Crosby doesn’t know his real name - he’s absolutely beautiful. When he smiles, it’s like a little ray of sunshine even though the rain is pouring, and Crosby tries not to look at the way his grey t-shirt is hugging wet to his body. Off-limits, this one - all of the staff are off-limits. “How’s the night treating you?”

“Wetly,” Crosby says. “Is he ready?”

“Uh huh,” Jericho murmurs, and he steps onto the dock, dragging the boat a little closer and tying it soundly to a post. He glances over his shoulder, drawing a tousled lock of hair back from his face and showing Crosby his teeth: his head tips back just slightly, and Crosby can see a few droplets of water run down his neck, soaking into the collar of his shirt.

Christ.

“Hurry up,” Crosby orders, his tone crisp, and Jericho’s smile fades. Immediately, he turns himself back to finishing the ropework, and when he sounds a whistle that carries well over the rain, another guy opens the door to the yacht’s cabin. Dad steps out, delicately bowing his head as he steps out from the white-painted roof, and he lopes across the deck and steps down onto the dock with an easy grace. Crosby always hoped he’d be able to walk like that when he grew up, but he can’t manage it, not now.

Miranda and Rachel can. Miranda and Rachel are natural wolves, scoping out their own territory, ruling with an iron fist, and Crosby doesn’t know–

He’s doing something wrong, he knows he is. Doesn’t know how to make it right.

“Come on,” Crosby says. “We’re going to be late, Dad.”

“Wait a sec, Cros,” Dad murmurs, and Crosby watches as he spreads one broad hand over Jericho’s jaw, playing over the hard planes of his stubbly chin. Jericho stiffens slightly, his shoulders squaring, but he doesn’t drag himself away from the Wolf King’s touch - he’s not that stupid. Crosby watches, swallowing the bitter taste in his mouth, as Dad squeezes, forcing Jericho to open his mouth slightly, and then drags his thumb over the sailor’s lower lip, not even bothering to kiss him. It isn’t about kissing him, after all: Crosby knows his dad too much to know that it’s about hedonism, when he grabs somebody publicly like this. It’s about control, he thinks - maybe about dominance. Maybe he just does it because he knows Jericho looks Crosby, and that it’ll make Crosby sick to see Dad touch him. Seems like something he’d do. 

If Crosby were a braver man, maybe he’d take a step back, spit on the ground, do something  _masculine_ , show his disgust. Maybe tell his Dad to get his hands off the staff and let them get to work; maybe tell him that the rain is soaking into his linen suit, and that he looks cheap, and whoreish. Maybe tell him he won’t wait all night.

Crosby’s not a brave man. 

He always figured he’d grow into it, like his older sisters have, but it hasn’t come. 

“Dad,” Crosby says, and Dad laughs, quiet and low. Jericho shivers, and he looks at Crosby, his blue eyes dark in the rain. Dad shoves him away, a little too hard, so that the guy stumbles slightly as he leans back against the boat, and Dad slides smooth across the dock, joining Crosby underneath the umbrella. Crosby holds it a little higher to allow for the extra height - not for the first time, he considers knocking his father with the frame of the umbrella, maybe slitting his throat with the blade hidden in the handle. He doesn’t. He couldn’t bear to. 

Not a brave man.

“We’re late,” Crosby says, and he begins to walk. He has to take two steps for each of his father’s - Crosby’s gait is too short, and he always looks hurried and hasty beside his Father. Kings shouldn’t look  _hasty_. He knows that. He knows–

“Calm down, honey,” Dad murmurs, and he slides his arm around Crosby’s shoulder. Despite himself, despite everything, Crosby lets himself relax slightly, feels his father’s warmth against his shoulder. Even better, Dad’s lips brush against his temple, and Crosby has to stop himself from actually  _sighing_. He should have known it wouldn’t just be careless affection: Dad’s mouth comes down a little lower, and he feels his dad’s whiskey-scented breath against his hair as he murmurs, “Don’t rush me, Cros. You, uh. You know better than that.”

“Sorry,” Cros says. “Didn’t know you  _wanted_  to piss off our suppliers. Your prerogative, I guess.” Dad stops walking. Crosby freezes. It had slid off his tongue a little too fast - too much sarcasm, too much  _wit_ , because he’s cold and irritable and had been waiting on the marina twenty minutes longer than he’d expected, but he doesn’t let himself turn to look at his father, keeps his gaze facing forward. His grip tightens on the umbrella, and he hopes to God the gloves he’s wearing hide the shift of his knuckles as he waits for his father to hit him, waits for the cutting word, waits for  _something_  in the ringing silence. Above the patter of the rain on the dock surface, he can hear the hard pound of his heart in his chest. This is it, this is  _terror_ , this is–

Dad chuckles, the sound low, and he gently pats Crosby’s shoulder.

“Aw, I–  _See_ , Cros, you are growing a spine.” Crosby’s head whips to the side, and he stares at his father, sees the easy quirk of his smile, the show of his white teeth. His eyes are dark and foreboding, but they don’t look displeased. “I, uh… I wish you usually had this much pep in your step. Keeps things interesting.”

Crosby isn’t sure what to say. His tongue is still in his mouth, feels fat and clumsy and stupid: Dad watches him expectantly for a long few moments, and Crosby sets his jaw.

“We’re wasting time,” Cros says. “ _Go_.” Dad laughs, and he swings his arm around Crosby’s neck again, pulling him closer so he can ruffle Crosby’s hair - he hasn’t done this in  _years_ , and Cros wonders exactly how much he’s had to drink, on the boat. But Dad is walking again, they’re both walking, and Crosby lets himself–

Enjoy it.

While it lasts.

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up on [my Tumblr.](http://dictionarywrites.tumblr.com/faq) Requests always open. 
> 
> I've now set up a Goldblum fan blog, because like... I mean, who is surprised? So check that out at [goldbluminspired.tumblr.com](), and DEFINITELY check out the watch parties I'm setting up! Every Saturday, I want to set up a watch party where we can all watch a livestream of some Jeff Goldblum content together, and this Saturday, we're doing [The Big Chill (1983)](https://goldbluminspired.tumblr.com/post/178553072066/watch-party-for-the)! Totally click the link for more info.
> 
> You'll notice this fic is part of a new collection, the [Jeff Goldblum Cinematic Universe](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Jeff_Goldblum_Cinematic_Universe) \- totally feel free to add your own fics and bookmarks to this one! This is for all Jeff Goldblum roles, but especially for ones from more minor fandoms, and I'm super excited about setting up.


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